You're Here for Me
by Turnabout Writer
Summary: It's the 12th anniversary of the SL-9, and Ema goes to see Gant after 10 years in Solitary; but who knew one of his neighboring cells belonged to Kristoph Gavin? Of course, he is intrigued by their conversation, since it's about Gant's past, the mysterious criminal who seeks justice – especially when Klavier makes an appearance, showing concern for the "Fräulein Detective".


**You're Here For Me**

**It's the 12****th**** anniversary of the SL-9, and Ema goes to see Gant after 10 years in Solitary; but who knew one of his neighboring cells belonged to Kristoph Gavin? Of course, he is intrigued by their conversation, since it's about Gant's past, the mysterious criminal who seeks justice – especially when Klavier makes an appearance, showing concern for the "Fräulein Detective".**

**************Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is copyright © 2012 _Turnabout Writer_****. All rights reserved.**

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When the Fräulein Detective comes in this morning, she sighs softly to herself when she sees the pile of files awaiting her arrival by her desk. Most mornings she'd be in Klavier's, otherwise known as the 'glimmerous fop', face, protesting against the ridiculous amount of work given.

But today, not only her body, but her emotions feel numb.

She sits down at her desk with a sigh and immediately gets to work, and she doesn't stop – not even for lunch – until three hours later her phone vibrates on the desk.

She doesn't bother to look at the Caller ID.

"Skye."

Klavier almost laughs at her impulsiveness as he watches from the open office window.

"Lana," she speaks smoothly, like she's instantly regretting her decision of not looking at the name of who is calling.

With a quick glance at the calendar, the Fräulein Detective releases a wistful sigh. "Yeah, I know, Lana. How could you think that I forget?" she speaks into the phone. She pauses, her face twisting into a sad grimace as moisture forms in her eyes. "I can't come, I'm sorry . . . it's just too much for me to handle. Especially knowing that if I had really pushed Mr. Neil into the wrong direction, even by the twitch of my hand, he would have been killed."

Klavier is shocked – he knows what they say about eavesdroppers but he never thought he would receive a shock like this. Ema . . . almost killing someone?

She lets her pink trademark glasses slide down to her nose as she raises her free hand, inspecting. " . . . I'm not being dramatic, Lana . . . Gant blackmailed you and convinced you that I had killed Neil! No, I . . . that doesn't change my decision. I'm not coming tonight. Have I ever in the past 10 years?"

After the next pause she takes, something ignites in her eyes. "It has nothing to do with Mr. Wright, Lana! You should be grateful! He saved you from being guilty of murder, since that horrid man made you dispose of the detective he killed in Mr. Edgeworth's car . . . . It has nothing to do with Mr. Edgeworth, either! Stop accusing the two people I owe a great amount of debt to the most, Lana – your baseless conclusions are not helping! And let's face it, you owe your life to Phoenix! You wouldn't have married Jake nor have kids if he hadn't saved your ass out there!"

Klavier is surprised at her derogatory term – the Fräulein never swore, at least in the office. However, there was another issue.

Herr Wright and the Fräulein knew each other from before?

Her face scrunches up into an adorable pout. "Fine! You want me to face my fears? I'll prove it to you! I'll prove today and only _today_ without even stepping into your house, Lana, and that's a fact – not a promise!" is the last thing Klavier hears before heading towards the evidence room to look up the importance of this date.

The only thing he finds is a file called 'The SL-9 Incident'.

.

.

.

"Damon Gant!" Ema barks, flashing out her badge. "I want to see him, _now_._"_

Two police guards escort her to Solitary Confinement Cell 16. She stares in amazement at the custom-made organ that is against the wall – one of the many perks to being in such a position before convicted to murder, as ex-Chief of Police, in Solitary Confinement.

They unlock the gate and open the door for her but she shakes her head – she fears of going inside.

"Number 16, you have a visitor - she's not going in so come into view for her!"

When Gant makes his appearance – he's not wearing an orange jumpsuit, another perk, most likely - Ema has to admit, for a man that is currently 75 years old and in jail, he looks in pretty good shape.

Except for that screwed-up brain of his.

"Ema Skye?" Gant says in surprise. "Oh my, haven't you grown! Look at you. . . What was it you wanted to be? A forensic scientist?" He looks down. "I suppose you resent me after what Wrighto has proved."

She exhales sharply, ignoring his chitchat. "Gant, I want to know why you did it! Why?! You tried to pin Neil's murder on me and blackmailed Lana that you would disclose this fact if she didn't do what you wanted . . . what would you gain from murdering Neil? Joe Darke couldn't have been the sole reason, could have!?" Her hand clenches around the bars of the gate, and Gant reaches out, to enclose his fingers around her wrist.

"No . . . ," he whispers.

"Let go of me!" she growls, twisting her wrist to loosen his grip on her wrist.

"You don't know anything!" he begins shouts. "You don't know the pressure I was put under because of that case! The system was failing me, and Darke would get away spot-free!"

"Stop it," she cries, "you're hurting me!" She tries to pull free of his grip but he won't budge. There is no guard to be seen around.

"Gant, she's right. You _should_ let go of her before she screams for help, which will result in you getting into some sort of chastisement," a smooth voice says from the other side of the room. Ema and Gant turn to the voice.

And there sits the spitting image of Ema's boss, with a book in hand, in a purple chair that seems to have been moved towards the jail bars, instead of facing the table.

As if he has moved it to enjoy the spectacle before him.

"Kristo, my boy!" Gant says cheerfully.

"K-Kristoph Gavin?" she stutters, momentarily forgetting Gant. She sees Kristoph in the nearby cell, sliding his glasses up his nose.

"N-N . . . Mmph . . . you know him?" He releases his grip on her, a sudden protective look in his eyes.

Ema cradles her wrist to her chest, rubbing it soothingly.

"Kristoph Gavin, tried and found guilty of Shadi Smith's murder after being accused by his own apprentice – Apollo Justice, a friend of mine. It was his first trial and he was defending Phoenix Wright. Apollo proved Mr. Wright innocent." Her voice is blank as she speaks, showing no emotion as she stares at her boss's brother. He stares back, his glasses sliding down his nose – the light reflects on the lenses, making them shine.

"Wrighto was accused of the murder committed by his own defense?" Gant scowls at Kristoph. "I think I've lost the respect I've had for you, Kristo. From my deducing, when your pupil accused you of the murder, you ended up accusing your own client! I thought you and I were alike, two respectful men that were misunderstood by the world; but it is unfortunate to say, that I thought wrong. We need more people like Wrighto in the world who will stop at nothing to find the truth."

"Hmph." Kristoph turns his head, disgruntled as he pushes back the fringe of his hair.

Ema debates whether or not she should say the next thing she wants to voice, but then realizes there isn't anything bad that could result from it.

"His brother is the prosecutor who stripped Phoenix Wright of his attorney's badge. Mr. Wright was accused of forging evidence, which he hasn't done – it was proved. He was given false evidence by his own brother – it was a trap." Again no emotion. She has to keep her limits with Gant, regardless of the fact that he is interest in what happened to Mr. Wright.

Gant's eyes widen. "What do you mean he was stripped of his attorney's badge!? Wrighto didn't forge the evidence, I can concur with you on that, but couldn't he have retaken the bar exam!?"

"He gave up, I guess. He also had a newly-adoptive daughter to tend to, Trucy Enigmar, the daughter of his last client, a magician, who disappeared before the judge could give a verdict. She aides Apollo in court and during their investigations and I am well-acquainted with her as well. Now she goes by Trucy Wright."

"A daughter?" Gant says in wonder. "Wright gave up law for his daughter, then, it seems?" He sighs. "That's probably why I was never loved – I was too obsessed with convicting criminals to realize what I could have had. I'm not pleased with what I've done, murdering Neil Marshall and Bruce Goodman, but I did what I had to do. I regret what I've done, but it's a good thing they still won't let me out of here. Hell doesn't even know what more I could do." His eyes are impassive, like he is looking over his possibilities. "Yes . . . now that I think about it, it _is_ a good thing."

Kristoph's dark laughter rings out through. "You are a crazed old man, Gant. You're scaring the poor girl."

Gant pauses, before clapping his hands, over-exaggerating the action; his maniacal laughter echoes throughout the halls. "WA HA HA HEH HEH HEH HAW HAW HAW!" He slowly comes to a stop. "You're the one to talk, Kristo. Now, I know that I've lost all of the respect – not even an ounce left – for you."

Ema cringes at his laughter, recalling the day of Lana's trial. Those same laughs . . . it made her think back to the SL-9 . . . Neil Marshall . . . her wretched nightmares. She feels her knees wobbling, ready to let them fall to the ground.

"Your laugh . . . it rings out, so clearly . . . unbelievably clearly . . . now . . . and in my . . . nightmares."

Gant stops abruptly – he never meant to terrorize the girl; it was just an old habit of his that he was unable to part with.

"I . . . I'm sorry."

She cries, finally giving in and collapsing to the floor. "No! You think this . . . this is some . . . joke? That I'm . . . here to exchange pleasantries, Gant? No, I – "

She's hyperventilating now.

Dammit, she should eaten something last night if she knew she wasn't going to eat anything today – she hadn't even touched the bag of Snackoos in her pouch.

" . . . Why? W-Why . . . did you . . . ruin our . . . lives?" she says weakly, as she attempts to stand up again. Kristoph is silent as she refuses Gant's outstretched hand as support. Instead she grabs the bars of the gate.

"I'm sorry, Ema. For everything," the man whispers.

With a final huff and puff of breath, she loses unconsciousness and falls to the ground.

"Ema!" Gant shouts. Kristoph's eyes widen as well as they share a look.

"Kristoph! Try to get the guard's attention! You're closer in view to them!" is the last thing Ema hears.

And that's when she realizes that maybe Gant isn't so bad after all.

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.

.

The snow falls quicker and harder as the prosecutor waits outside of the building – Klavier has been waiting for a good half-an-hour since his Fräulein went inside.

Now he's worried.

Every time they were to go to even the detention center for an investigation or interrogation, Ema would plead for him to either quicken his pace so that they could leave as quickly as possible. When he had asked why, she said she hated being in these kinds of places because it made her feel suffocated to see these people encaged like this, as if she herself was one of them.

He finally decides to go in, though quickly losing his patience from the security check as the officer looks through his wallet – taking out his credit cards and photos of Herr Forehead and the Fräulein Magician, until he finally stops at stares at Klavier's pictures of the Fräulein Detective.

The first picture is a picture of the both of them together, smiling – it was originally a picture of the two of them, Herr Forehead, Fräulein Wright, Machi and Lamiroir, taken after Machi's trial (it took a bit of a bribe to let Machi out for a few minutes after his arrest), but Klavier expertly cropped it so it seemed like Ema was willingly taking a picture with him only.

The second one is a picture of her alone, smiling at the camera at People Park as one hand is at her hip, the other at the rose-tinted glasses perched on her head – it was a picture he stole from her office, in fact.

And he isn't intending on returning it.

Klavier scowls when the officer stares at the two pictures intently.

He furrows his eyebrows in concentration. "Prosecutor Gavin, is she your girlfriend?"

"It's none of your business, but I'll answer it regardless. Ja, she is my girlfriend," he lies smoothly. He hopes that soon this lie will be turned into a reality.

"Well . . . I don't know how to say this, but . . . she, erm, came in to visit prisoner #16, Damon Gant, and fifteen minutes later he and #13 yelled for help because she, um, b-blacked out," he stutters. Klavier can't blame him because he is positive the expression on his face is murderous. He knows Ema wouldn't black out just like that – he has a pretty good idea who prisoner #16 was and has a strong feeling he pulled one of her triggers.

"What!?" Klavier quickly snatches his wallet and the photos from the officer and runs; the officer makes no move to stop him, but instead feels sympathy for him.

Two guards block the scene, where Ema lays on the ground, face paler than usual, all of the blood drained from her beautiful face.

"Achtung! Fräulein!" he shouts, and then turns to the guards. "Why haven't you called the doktor!? Why isn't there an EMT here!?" he barks, attempting to sprint to her side. However, the guards restrain him, holding him back.

"Stay back, you! There's a snowstorm approaching on their side of the city so they are having difficulties in coming here! And don't you dare go near her, you punk!"

Klavier's eyes flash in anger. "Do you not know who I am?! Do you not realize that I can have you both fired for being so careless and not watching over the cells when there is a visitor!? With a snap of my fingers, you can be jobless! I'm her boss, Prosecutor Klavier Gavin! You have to let me go!" he snaps, as he pushes past the stunned-into-silence guards. Klavier looks at them from the corner of his eye, glaring. They disperse from the hall and run to the lobby.

He kneels over Fräulein Detective's limp body, his arms reaching out to hold her.

"Fräulein Detective . . ." He places a hand on her cheek and shakes her gently. Nothing. He reaches into his coat pocket where he stuffed a water bottle in the small pocket and sprinkles water on the Fräulein as he tries to open one of her eyes with two fingers.

"Mm . . . ?" she moans in protest.

"Meine liebe!" he whispers. "Please, get up!"

She groans a bit before slowly opening her eyes. "You're here?" Her voice is weak, childlike, laced with innocence.

His lips reach down to touch her forehead. "Ema . . ."

"I knew you'd come," she whispers, her voice still sounding so naïve. "I don't know why, but I just know I did." She pauses. "You called me 'Ema'."

"That's your name." He smiles, amused.

"No, but you always call me Fräulein Detective." She smiles. "That's the first time you've called me by my name."

"Ja, I guess so." He gently pulls on the hair band that has been keeping a short layer of hair in a ponytail. It's freed from the band, framing itself beautifully around her face.

"Perfekt," he murmurs, as Ema's flushed face flames under his gaze.

Ema normally wouldn't have allowed such contact with Klavier Gavin, the Glimmerous Fop, let alone Klavier Gavin, the Prosecutor, her_ boss_. But this situation was different. She was hurt, and needed comfort, and he was there, ready to help.

And she was sure they'd go back to hating each other's guts by tomorrow morning.

"Dem Himmel sei Dank, dass Sie in Ordnung sind! Wenn jemand von diesen Verbrechern getan hatte so viel lag ein Finger auf Sie ... dann wird es niemand schlechter als mir zu Angesicht."

"Are you ever going to enlighten me as to what you're murmuring on to yourself in German?" Her voice is weak and strained.

He smiles. "Nein." But then he almost frowns. "Es wäre so viel einfacher, wenn Sie verstand Deutsch, so dass es nicht schwer sein für mich, Ihnen zu sagen, wie du mich wickeln um den Finger so leicht. Wie kann ich mich in dich verliebt bin so verrückt. Really, it makes me feel like a coward."

Ema only sighs.

"Um, can I get up from the floor, Gavin?" she asks awkwardly.

"You can hold on for a moment, ja?" A sudden mischievous glint comes into Klavier's eyes as her scoops her from the ground and lifts her up in his arms.

"Klavier!" she shrieks as he laughs – it's the first time he has truly laughed since Vera Misham's trial. "Klavier Gavin, put me down! I'm not a child! I can walk perfectly fine on my own!"

"Unsinn! Meine liebe, your contradiction is as big as Herr Forehead's shiny, glaring forehead! Your ankle is swollen!"

"Apollo's forehead isn't that large." She laughs quietly, and he joins her.

Klavier no longer feels suffocated from the world. Whenever he is with Ema, he can be so carefree, happy. After Vera's trial, Klavier disbanded his band, and tried to act as normal as could, pretending to dismiss his brother's newly-revealed crimes like it didn't matter to him.

Like he refused to acknowledge Kristoph's existence in his life.

His grip on Ema tightens slightly as he recalls what the officer outside had said. _" . . . and fifteen minutes later he and #13 yelled for help . . . "_

_Verdammt!_

Prisoner #13.

Kristoph Gavin.

Right on cue, Klavier can hear his brother's voice so clear it is unreal.

"Hmm . . . it's seems that you, Miss Skye, are one sneaky girl, aren't you? When you told Damon Gant about how Phoenix Wright was no longer a defense attorney because of my brother, you never mentioned how you knew him so _personally_."

Another voices chimes in so suddenly, except it's a complete contrast to Kristoph's voice – it's less solemn and sardonic, and more cheerful and joyous.

"Oh, Kristo! Leave these lovebirds alone!"

"Ach!" Klavier yells in surprise as Ema squeals at the figure that suddenly pops in front of them.

"Aah!" Ema exclaims in surprise. "Don't do that – are you trying to put me in cardiac arrest?!" Klavier lowers her so she can stand on the ground, but hisses when her right foot bends to make contact with the ground, so he supports her by wrapping her arm around his waist as she lets the other foot touch the ground and lifts her injured foot – Klavier acts as her crutch.

"The only arrest you can get here is for a crime, Miss," Kristoph's dark voice says quietly. "And Gant, before you take on their side, might I remind you that he is the same Prosecutor Klavier Gavin who – "

"I know, Kristo, but if he makes Lana's sister happy, then supporting her is the least I can do." Gant flashes a smile at Ema, and she can see he's trying his best not to erupt into the laughter she hates.

"Lana Marshall," Ema corrects automatically, but then realizes that have shouldn't have said that.

"Marshall? She married that detective, Jake, Neil's brother?" Gant asks.

"Yes," she says, smiling fleetingly. But then she sighs. "The snowstorm . . ."

"It's a good thing _I_ didn't take a cab here." Klavier snickers.

Ema's mouth forms into a pout. "You followed me here?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"You were crying in the office this morning – I can't bear to see such a beautiful Fräulein hurting," he enlightens.

Ema tries not to blush, but fails. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Glimmer-boy."

Klavier snorts as he starts to walk in the opposite direction, towards the exit. "Glimmer-boy?' What happened to 'glimmerous fop'?"

Ema gives Gant glance and very hesitantly . . . she gives him a small smile, and then follows Klavier.

"I find the title unfitting, now that your band has broken up and – "

"Please, wait!"

Ema and Klavier turn to where Gant smiles, a smirk on his face as the skin crinkles around the eyes that are shielded by his pinkish-purple glasses.

"I want to answer the questions you came to find the responses to, Ema. It's the least I can do for you. I promise not to keep you and your suitor . . . erm, what do people call it these days? Boyfriend? I, er, promise not to keep you both for long."

"Klavier's – "

"Happy to oblige. Take your time, Ema." He flashes a grin at her, revealing a set of pearly whites.

Ema sighs, ignoring the prosecutor. "Fine. There's one thing that's been on my mind for years," she says. "It's still beyond me how justice can drive a man to murder."

Gant sighs. "I desired the convictions of my suspects, the court's approval of the fruits of my labor, but when the system was about to fail me, as in the case of the Joe Darke Killings, I took matters into my own hands. It made me a cold, calculating, and manipulative _criminal_. I knew exactly how to go about getting something I wanted and wouldn't do anything unless it benefited me in some way."

But he then smiles and claps joyously like a small child with a "Ha ha!" – it seems genuine. "I've repented for what I've done, I promise you, but I do hope that people like Wrighto and Worthy keep the law in their hands. Their dedication to find the truth . . . it amazes me."

Ema then sighs, hostility cleared from her heart at the mention of Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth. "Yes, I do agree. Should there be an established relationship and dynamic in the court between defense and prosecution, it ought to be like theirs was; they should have one simple, shared goal in mind: to discover the truth."

"Oh? So, the dynamic Herr Forehead and I share has nothing to do with finding the truth?" Klavier teases.

Ema laughs. "Firstly, in the courtroom, you and Apollo – actually, it's only you who must maintain a professional relationship. Don't call him Forehead in court, just because he has, according to you, a huge forehead! It's unprofessional! Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth were childhood friends and yet, when you look at them fight in court, you wouldn't believe it!"

Ema's glasses fall down to cover her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest and smiles. "Speaking of which, I heard Mr. Wright's re-taking the bar exam."

Gant's smile crinkles the skin around his eyes. "Do you still have those glasses I gave you when you were, I believe, thirteen years old? The frames of the ones you wear now are more modern and sleek, so they can't possibly be the same."

"They're somewhere in my attic," she answers wryly. "I have another pair as well that I wore in Europe. I did the same thing you did for me; I stole both pairs from the forensic labs."

He nods, beaming. "Good, good. You've grown into a remarkable woman, Ema. But, now, as you leave, you must do something for me."

The sudden silence in the hall is dreadful as Gant opens his mouth to voice his request.

"Promise me that you and this young man, Vio, will go for a swim soon!"

"Vio . . . ?" Ema laughs and shakes her head, but then blushes upon realization of his words, while a smug-looking Klavier toys his bangs with his calloused fingers.

"Of course, Herr Gant." He laughs. "It was . . . a pleasure, I guess."

"A pleasure to meet a criminal rotting away in Solitary? I doubt it, but the courtesy is very much appreciated." But he grins.

"Goodbye, Gant." Ema says softly. "I guess I was wrong about you – you can be scary and a little creepy, but all-in-all, you aren't that bad."

"Thank you, Ema. It was nice seeing you after all these years." He pauses as they begin to leave. "Aren't you going to bid your brother goodbye, Vio?"

Klavier smiles sadly. "I'm afraid you must be under a grave misunderstanding. I don't have a brother, Herr Gant."

"Klavier, what – ?"

"I don't have a brother, Fräulein – I'm an only child, please understand that."

"What's wrong with you!?" Ema wants to continue, but a harsh, dark laugh stops her. Klavier doesn't, but she turns to the cell where the laugh is echoed from.

Kristoph Gavin.

"Is that how you are going to play this, Klavier? Then so be it. I don't need you – I don't need anyone! I'm perfectly fine where I am. Alone." His laughter becomes louder as Ema cringes into Klavier's arm, which she's gripping on to tightly.

"Let's get out of here, Fräulein." Klavier's voice is angry as he pulls a frightened Ema away to the lobby.

.

.

.

"Thank you for today, Klavier," Ema says, as Klavier walks her up the door of her apartment.

"It's fine Fräulein." He wraps one arm around her waist and lowers his head to her head. "But it was all you. You're brave; I'll give you that for one." He whispers in her ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of her face.

She scoffs lightly, but her fingers entangle in his hair – her heart is beating erratically against his, knowing what is to come. "Me? You can break off ties with your delinquent brother and declare it so easily. I would probably be a coward, cry, mope, and not move on with my life!"

His lips peck her temple as he pulls her closer to him.

And when his lips press themselves lightly against hers, she knows that this is won't be the last time Klavier will be there for her.

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**Translations:**

**Dem Himmel sei Dank, dass Sie in Ordnung sind! Wenn jemand von diesen Verbrechern getan hatte so viel lag ein Finger auf Sie . . . dann wird es niemand schlechter als mir zu Angesicht.**_** – Thank heavens that you're alright! If anyone of these criminals had done as much as lay a finger on you . . . then there will be no one worse than me to face.**_

**Es wäre so viel einfacher, wenn Sie verstand Deutsch, so dass es nicht schwer sein für mich, Ihnen zu sagen, wie du mich wickeln um den Finger so leicht. Wie kann ich mich in dich verliebt bin so verrückt**_**. – It would be so much easier if you did understand German, so that it wouldn't be hard for me to tell you how you wrap me around your finger so easily. How I'm in love with you so crazily.**_

**Unsinn! – **_**Nonsense!**_

**Hope you liked it! **


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